The Carrero Effect trilogy

“Emma?” Margaret Drake’s voice echoes toward me as the clip-clop of her stilettos come at me across the white marble floor from her internal office.

“Yes, Mrs. Drake?” I stand, unsure if I’m meant to, suddenly nervous and shy of this woman who has been letting me shadow her for over a week. I steady my hands on the hem at my waist and fix the obligatory smile on my face with grace.

“Mr. Carrero will be arriving shortly; make sure there’s fresh water with ice on his desk and clean glasses,” she smiles encouragingly, possibly sensing my unease.

“Have the espresso machine on and ready if he asks for one and all his mail and messages laid out on his desk before he arrives. When he does, please keep out of his way until I call you for introductions.” She pats my shoulder gently with a wide bright smile, a mannerism I’ve grown accustomed to.

“Yes, Mrs. Drake,” I nod, still trying not to feel in awe of the swirl of platinum blonde hair that is held on top of her head or the severely tailored jacket that reveals a curvy physique.

My mentor, Margo Drake, is a gorgeous and intelligent creature I can only look up to. When I met her a few days ago, I was floored by her physical appearance. My previous mentor had informed me Mrs. Drake was in her fifties and Mr. Carrero’s personal assistant. I expected someone colder and dragon-like, considering her crucial role in the business, not this designer-clad, fabulous temple before me with breathtaking beauty and natural friendliness.

“Oh, and Emma?” she pauses, turning slightly.

“Yes, Mrs. Drake?”

“This week, you’ll meet with Donna Moore. She’s Mr. Carrero’s personal shopper, and she’ll fit you out with appropriate work attire, anything you’ll need when representing him when you go on trips, events and such, and all that red-carpet crap he’s so fond of.” She smiles warmly with a little sigh and a raised brow, suggesting she disapproves of his public affairs.

I swallow, deliberately quelling the nerves once again. I was aware that my role would require me to be available on short notice for trips and functions, but I was never informed it would include the public side of Mr. Carrero at all.

Damn!

“Yes, Mrs. Drake,” I say, trying to work out how much I’ll have to spend to be red carpet ready, worried it may eat into my savings a bit more than I expected. A lot more than expected.

“It goes on company expenses, Emma. Mr. Carrero expects his staff to look a certain way,” she winks at me. “He considers it a necessary expense for all employees on the sixty-fifth floor.”

Mrs. Drake has this uncanny ability to read everyone’s mind. I like her ability; it removes awkward misunderstandings, nervous hesitations, and no second-guessing, and I find I work well with her because of it.

“Thank you, Mrs. Drake,” I nod.

“Call me Margo, Emma. You’ve been here for over a week, and I’m happy with your progress. We’re going to be working closely, so please.” She gives me a full warm smile before turning on her expensive high heels back toward the massive door of her own office.

I’m warmer, calmer. I’m getting a solid impression, Margo has taken a liking to me in my time here. That's right. I glance back at my computer's monitor, the company logo swirling in front of me as a screen saver: “Carrero Corporation.”

After working here for five years, I finally went from being an administrative assistant to a personal assistant to Mr. Jacob Carrero.

Carrero is everything you want in a playboy billionaire. He’s handsome in an ungodly devastating way, confident, and publicly popular among the female population. He has an Italian-meets American look about him inherited from his parents. His mother has the same mixed look, and he’s one of New York’s richest heirs.

The Carrero family is almost like royalty, and he is the eldest of their two princes who have grown up very publicly. He’s been gracing the social news pages for years, always charming the cameras that seek him out and always smiling in almost every picture they have caught him in.

I’ve done extensive research to prepare myself for working alongside him, but it makes me uneasy, despite not having met him yet. He’s been away taking personal time since before I was sent up here to replace my predecessor.

I know it’s a huge honor to get this position, but don’t know if I’ve overstepped my worth. I don’t know if I’m capable of the task ahead of me, capable of working with someone so young and all-encompassing as Jacob Carrero, the celebrity hotel tycoon and New York’s most eligible bachelor.

I pull my focus back to the task; putting my mind on doing something manual always helps me get myself together. I did as Margo asked and ready the large, expensive espresso machine in the white kitchen.

It’s almost 9.00 a.m. He will be arriving shortly; my nerves are so taut I may actually snap with the tension if it isn’t over soon.

Margo sweeps into the foyer in a graceful cloud of Chanel No. 9 and passes me at my desk near the entrance to our offices, indicating Mr. Carrero’s arrival. She smiles my way fondly and quickly as she passes and gives me an encouraging wink as though I am about to meet royalty. My heart stops.

Maybe I am.

Oh hell! Swallow. Deep breath. Relax.

As they approach, I hear her as she runs through his itinerary with him out in the hall. I know she’s been emailing him back and forth, but verbally being brought up to speed is something she told me he prefers as a recap. I’ll need to remember this as it will be my role soon enough.

I stay seated and keep my eyes on my keyboard, willing my nerves to remain under wraps.

Within a moment, all of them are past Margo’s inner door and in his office, door closed. Now that I have no visual distractions, I take a deep breath of relief and try again to type this document out, meeting my usual success, swift skill with a keyboard.

It seems like an eternity has passed when my switchboard lights up, and the distant voice of Margo interrupts my concentration. Unaware I’d been semi-holding my breath until that second. I give myself another stern inner shake.

“Emma, please come into Mr. Carrero’s office. Thank you.” Her voice sounds distant and tinny on the remarkably high-tech machine.

I let out a deep breath. Say to myself, ok, relax Emma. you can do it. Come on, go meet the prince. Oh no, your new boss.